Lyrics:
gangsta shit
I say No Limit loud, cause we ain't scared of nobody
Organized by P or should I say, John Gotti
Real niggas, put ya guns up if ya feel me
But
they put us in the cage
Rule' and Gotti america's most wanted to many..
Come and get me!!! (Pretty soon ya gonna pay)
world
And I know that you really can't believe
What ya hear and ya see
Just put ya hands up and repeat after me
Get yo' money
Fuck a bitchand blow a gang
look like you're in another world
But I can read your mind
How can you be so far away lying by my side
Things ain't always what they seem
Or cracked up
on that tag on yo' toe
Now who gon tell yo mother, her baby's under a cover in the morgue
Stiff as a log, sniffed out by the dogs
Son of a hard headed
I be talkin' 'bout"
And we gon' be around til yo motherfuckin' body rot
And if the Feds bring us in we get the same time Gotti got
And if the Feds
JAY-Z:
No more reasonable doubt I'm provin to be da illest MC somthing wrong wit ya
Motor skills cause y'all ain't movin me I'm who you see musically
gettin' by
If you can't see we bitches ya jags, we forward ya last
We Diamonds ya glass, we get pussy y'all ass. Give me love
We be wearing gloves tied
of us) What the fuck would I do?
Lord, when I die pacify, crucify me
I rock a Devil cross, one's for the soul one's for the body
If I'm built then God
Doing things by the dozen
Always up am coming
And that is what your girl love
I ain't into cuffin naw
Ain't no Jon gotti but my Johnson is dapper
In
hustlers naturally born
With street smarts
Yo Karate it's you and Gotti
Y'all lift the weight
Me and Noyd, a gemstar hit down on the plate
The Mobb niggas
people gettin lye my niggas is gettin' by
If you can't see we bitches ya jags, we foward ya last
We Diamonds ya glass, we get pussy why'all ass. Give me
dog
That'll get yo ass shot
Why you lookin like that?
That'll get yo ass shot, stop lookin' at my dog
Yeah! This ya boy Yo Gotti!
Why you lookin'
dog
That'll get yo ass shot
Why you lookin like that?
That'll get yo ass shot, stop lookin' at my dog
Yeah! This ya boy Yo Gotti!
Why you lookin'
to tha grave
It's going down, mo-yo, feel this here baby
(verse 1: D-Gotti)
These blades are choppin'
And these babes are boppin'
Got a cup full of mud
That you're talking about?
The one that you claim as a hip-hop artist
But won't do the research on hip-hop history
Or the one where you disrespect,
of us) What the fuck would I do?
Lord, when I die pacify, crucify me
I rock a Devil cross, one's for the soul one's for the body
If I'm built then God
Gotti Go
Get in that car and go vroom, don't give a fuck about no red light
Like what I'm gon do when I'm just tryna get my head right?
If I pull out
Ha ha, ha ha, Roc-a-Fella y'all
Futuristic shit beeotch
Uh, what the fuck? How we do. How we do. Uh ha
Triple platnum nigga with the solid gold
Threw switches on this blick
But, when he blick 'em, they be glitchin'
Be discrete an keep yo' distance
When it get greasy you can't fix it
Don't be
the pod-piper, ex-sniper
Right beside ya, me and Max and a biker
What's next? Whatchu think is next? Cash, checks
You likin' this shit? You ain't seen nothing
clap at ya garage.
An' Em, whats tha du-rag for?
You neva gon' have waves, you'll never know black pain
but you can become tha first white rappa slain.
life)
Word up, we just livin? our life, doin? our thing
(We livin? our life)}
{Thugged out militainment style
(Thugged out militainment)
Ya
gettin' by
If you can't see we bitches ya jags, we forward ya last
We Diamonds ya glass, we get pussy y'all ass. Give me love
We be wearing gloves tied
.jpg/300px-The_Real_Thing_(1972).jpg "The Real Thing")
_ "Every Little Thing")
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